Barely Hanging On
by misscam
Summary: Jack's death devestates the Rats, and the guilt and pain threatens to overcome them all.. But is there a way out of the dark? And are they able to hang on?
1. Part One

Barely Hanging On  
By Camilla Sandman & Suz

Spoilers for the final episode of Water Rats!

Disclaimer: Blah.. Like we would have cancelled it if we owned Water Rats. In fact, Cam sure wouldn't have had Mick knocking on Frank's door in "Tomorrow Never Comes", and Suz wouldn't have killed poor Rach, and we definitely wouldn't… Um, yeah, so anyway, the point is we don't own 'em.

Author's Notes Cam – What do you do when you're stuck on a scene, and feel like you can't really write a character that well? Why, you get a co-writer of course!

Author's Notes Suz – Huh? 3 is a cool number

II

All stories have a beginning, a middle, and an end. Sometimes the beginning might be the end or the end the beginning, but still, it is fairly structured and conclusive. Life isn't like that. It's full of side turns, little ends and little beginnings, unstructured and chaotic and sometimes the conclusion makes no sense.

No sense at all.

Staring at the dark coffin, Alex St. Clare wondered just what bloody conclusion she was supposed to draw. Jack Christey was dead, as was Dave McCall and Rachel Goldstein, people she had never met, but who still haunted the halls of the Water Police HQ.

And Death seemed to stalk their station. Patiently waiting, then striking out when least expected. A part of her wanted to scream at the injustice of it, that yet another death should burden them, but the rational part of her denied her that rage.

It's a part of the job, it said, and you knew it when you joined. You have no reason to bitch now.

But she wanted to bitch, oh how she wanted to bitch! She wanted to scream and throw things, preferably valuable and breakable things, until she had no more strength or breath. Somehow, she imagined she would feel better.

But her rational mind denied her even that. It made her stand like calm and distant, staring at the coffin of her partner – her former partner – as if it was just another death. This would make it easier for her, her rational side reasoned; breaking down was not an option.

Yet she wanted to. She wanted to fall into the arms of Mick Reilly, and cry against his shoulder. He was standing just a few feet away, yet it might as well have been a mile. She had seen him and Emma hugging before the service had begun, and somehow it had bothered her.

It had bothered her that it had bothered her. And it bothered her that her rational side was winning all the arguments, and that the flowers were all wrong and that bloody Helen could not bloody stop simpering and that bloody, bloody Mick had not even offered a word of bloody comfort to her. But most of all it bothered her that she kept waiting for Jack to jump of the coffin and ask what they were all so morose about.

He simply couldn't be dead. She had seen his body, seen the autopsy report, yet it wasn't possible that he could be dead. It wasn't possible because that would mean that she would never see him again, never yell at him again, that she and Mick would never be able to tease him again.. Jack couldn't be dead because then she would have to say goodbye, and she just couldn't so that.

So she walked hastily away without looking back, the sound of her heels against the cold stone floor like gunshots echoing through the room.

II

Michael Reilly stared at the dark coffin and wondered how long he had to stare at it before it went up in smoke and he awoke to find it had all been a cruel joke. He tried closing his eyes and opening them again, but the scene didn't change.

Jack Christey was still dead, and it was still his fault.

It was too reminiscent of another scene, another death not that long ago. And even without closing his eyes, Mick could recall every smell, every sound as Rachel Goldstein was laid to rest.

Strangely enough, he could no longer see the pictures as clearly. They had begun to fade, to the point where they were blurred and dark. But the sounds and smells remained. He wondered why that was. Maybe his mind was doing him a favour. Rachel Goldstein's death made Jack Christey's death twice as devastating.

It was just too much. Too much death to carry, too much pain to withstand. Tommy and Dave had been smart. They'd gotten away before it was too late. Or had they? Dave hadn't made it, and Tommy.. With a sting, Mick realised he had forgotten Tommy. Not even a phone call to find out how things were, no e-mails, nothing.

And Frank, where was Frank? Helen would know, Helen always seemed to know. Glancing over at her, Mick saw her pale face among the others. All the colours seemed to have been drained from her.. as well as everyone else. As if they were all dead.

Were they? Were they all a little dead inside so they could survive this job?

II

Helen Blakemore wondered how she remained standing. She couldn't really feel her legs, or her arms or anything but the painful thudding of her heart. Still, she remained erect, as still as a statue.

Tears flowed freely and unhindered from her eyes. A while she thought there was a baby crying in the church, then she realised the sounds came from her own body. She had no control over them, and it didn't even bother her.

Jack Christey was dead. And even though it seemed completely ridiculous and she had almost forgot that she and Jack had ever talked about it, she almost felt like she had lost a baby too. It was a completely irrational thought to have, yet it had popped into her mind the moment she had seen the faces of the crew on Nemesis bringing Jack in and it had stayed ever since.

She had gotten used to him being around, just as she had gotten used to Frank and Rachel and Taylor and Dave and Webber and Tommy and Fiona and Terry.. It was a long list now. And too much of it was related to death.

She felt a hand on her arm, and looked up at Jeff's worried face. Behind him, she could see Sophie hurry out, her face a mask of pain and grief.

Helen tried giving Jeff a reassuring nod as her glance settled on him again, but her body still seemed detached from her. He said something, but she couldn't make it out, couldn't even see his face anymore as her vision blurred and she fell and fell.

II

"She's barely hanging on, but she's alive," Jeff said in a tired voice as he looked at the anxious faces of the Sydney Water Police gathered around them. They weren't all there, of course, there had to be someone at the office, but they seemed to be there in spirit nevertheless.

Alex breathed a sigh of relief, exchanging a look with Mick. Donna managed to grin, some of her cheery spirit returning. George looked relieved, even though the man was clearly uncomfortable being there. Emma was staring at her feet, not looking up at all.

"She suffered a heart attack," Jeff continued, "but she's stable now. All of you go home and get some rest." All of them opened their mouths to protest, but a hard glance cut off any objections. Shuffling their feet, the crowd slowly vanished and the only sound in the hallway was distant voices.

Only then did Jeff exhaled and almost fell onto the nearest chair. He felt drained, and old, so very, very old. Leaning his head on his crutch, he closed his eyes and let go of his composure. He didn't want the others to worry, nor to know Helen might not make it.

"Sir?"

He looked up, surprised, a little Donna Javenski staring down at him with an unreadable expression.

"She's not doing so good, is she?"

He merely shook his head, not knowing what to say.

"I'd like to stay.. Sir," she hastily added. Locking glances, it was Jeff who had to look away after a few moments and give a short nod. It occurred to him that one day, Donna would make a fine Helen.

And he hated himself for thinking that.

II

A light rain had begun to fall as they exited the hospital, enough to leave a light layer of moist on everything. The air was crisp and cool, and strangely heavy to breathe. It was as if Sydney had mimicked the mood of its police officers, gloom and sad.

Mick didn't bother looking back as he hurried toward the car, suddenly wanting more than anything to just get away.

He didn't slow down as he heard Emma call after him, just turned and gave her a shrug. He could feel her stare at him as he got in the car, knowing he was behaving like an ass, like a prick, like. Like Jack.

"Aw, shit," he cursed, as he fumbled with the key and it fell to the floor. "Mick!" Emma tapped on his window. He looked up at her, a little annoyed, couldn't she see that he just wanted to be alone? He wound the window down. "Can you let me in the other side, I'm getting wet." She held her hand out to indicate that the rain had got a little heavier. Sighing he flicked the lock for her.

"What?" He almost shouted at her as she climbed in the car. She looked a little taken aback and he suddenly felt guilty. "Sorry," it was only a mumble. He looked up at her. She'd been crying and that made him feel even worse. "Sorry," he said again, this time a little louder.

"For what?" She baited him and he shrugged. "Are you sorry that Helen's ill, or are you sorry that you ignored me just then or are you sorry that you've changed your mind about being friends?" She bit her bottom lip.

Why was she suddenly nervous? She'd played this scene over and over in her head, she'd made the decision. She was going to tell him that she wanted to try again. Everyone deserves a second chance. Right?

"I dunno Woodsie."

"Emma"

"What?

"My name's Emma, and we've had this conversation before. I just want to know what you're thinking. I thought that we could at least be here for each other right now. I know that I need someone and I thought that you would too." He nodded and she reached out for his hand. He jerked slightly.

"Emma…" he looked up at her. Her eyes were sad, and a little red from crying. Caught up in the moment he smiled slightly. Seeing this she leaned forward until he felt her breath on his face. For just one second, one moment he went to kiss her and suddenly he shook his head.

"What?"

"Emma, I'm sorry. We can't go there-"

"Shit Mick!" she interrupted him. "Look, work out what you want."

"I wanna be friends Em, I just, I just wanna be friends."

"Well, be a friend dammit. Be there for me, as a friend when I need it. Quit with the bloody mixed signals and just make up your bloody mind. I've had enough." She got out of the car and slammed the door.

It was now raining hard and realising that she had no way to get home she noticed George a few cars away. Alex had already driven off.

"George!" She ran over to him. "Can I please get a lift?" Without responding he opened the door for her and they got in before they were soaked.

"I thought you were with um…" he jerked his head in Mick's direction as he sped off angrily. "Ahh, never mind." She remained silent and looked at her lap. She had nothing to say to him, what would he understand? Just another guy. Another, stupid ignorant bastard in a suit and that was something she didn't need right now.

"Thanks for this." Her voice was quiet and unsettled. He nodded and started the car. They drove home in silence. Just the rain and the wipers making a little noise.

"This one just here." She pointed out the house almost too late and he turned into the driveway a little dangerously, the back end of the car slid slightly.

"Sorry."

"No problems," she paused for a moment. "Look, you can come in a grab a towel if you like."

"Um, yeah, thanks I will." Slightly hesitantly he opened the car door and ran inside behind her.

"Towel." She threw the towel at him as she ducked into the laundry to change. Returning dry she noticed him looking at some photographs on the bench.

"I didn't know that you and Mick were a couple." He flashed a photo of the two of them at her.

"We're not. We were- but… the job." He looked up at her. She still had red eyes, more so from the rain but he could tell she wasn't happy.

"Helen's going to be fine." He tried reassuring her, it was unsuccessful. "She's tough, think positive."

"Coffee?" He nodded. One of the mugs she grabbed slipped and smashed on the floor. She cursed loudly and then slightly embarrassed she picked up the pieces and cut her hand.

"Dammit," she cursed again. Feeling awkward George grabbed her wrist and put her hand under the kitchen tap. He fumbled for a couple of tissues behind him.

Emma bit her lip again, suddenly feeling indecisive. Stuff it, why not. As he turned back with a tissue she just leaned forward and kissed him, only for a second. She just needed a touch, something to comfort her and erase all the pain. Pulling away a little embarrassed, she began to apologise before he cut her off and kissed her back.

It wasn't passion, it wasn't love, it was… well what was it? Neither really knew, perhaps it was just because each of the other was there. He was lonely, he was feeling left out. He wasn't part of the group yet, so how could he mourn Jack Christey's death? He didn't know who Jack really was, apart from a bit of prick.

Emma just kissed him back, all she wanted right now was for someone to love her, to touch her. She wanted Mick but he wasn't there for her and she just couldn't stand around waiting. She needed someone now. Opening her eyes for a minute she looked at George. Hell, this was just going to be a once off thing.

They stopped for a moment, catching their breath.

"Shit," Emma looked at his stomach. "There's blood…" She pointed to his shirt and grabbed a Band-Aid from the drawer. "Sorry."

"It's okay," he smiled and took a step toward her. Smiling back she undid the bloodstained shirt and slid it down his back. He pulled her ponytail out and ran his fingers through her hair. They took a dozen steps to where the floor was carpet and pulled each other to the floor and just went with it. Outside, the rain showed no signs of fading and pounded furiously on the roof.

II

Darkness had begun to fall when Mick pulled into his driveway. The rain was still pouring down, but he simply didn't care. It could rain till they all drowned for all he cared.

Running inside, he only bothered turning one light on before dropping down on the couch. The darkness suited him better. It suddenly occurred to him he'd hardly been home since Jack.. since everything had happened. Now he felt uncomfortable there, like it wasn't his home at all.

He was an invader. He'd come in as an invader in Frank and Rachel's partnership, he'd watched Jack and Rachel from the sideline. And Alex.. He'd seen the looks Jack had sometimes given her. Slumping against the couch, he felt more miserably than he ever had.

He'd invaded and destroyed. Rachel was dead. Jack was dead. It was his fault.

There was a knock at the door. For a second, he hoped it was Emma after all. That he hasn't succeeded in pushing her away. But he pushed the thought quickly away as he walked to open the door.

It was Alex. She seemed to have been home for a change of clothes, because her clothes were hardly wet at all.

"Hey," she tried to smile, but simply didn't have the strength. "Can I come in?"

He should have closed the door, but his head seemed to nod on its own accord and his body stepped away to let her come in. As she walked past, her hand brushed against his.

It suddenly occurred to him how long it had been since he had touched her, since he had really touched her. He had to close his eyes and force the memory away before following her into the house.

"What is it, Alex?" He tried not to sound angry, it wasn't her or Emma he was angry with after all. It was himself.

"I feel like I'm dying, Mick," she whispered, turning away from his intense gaze. Truth be told, she wasn't even sure why she had come. She just knew that if she had stayed in her own house one minute longer, she would have suffocated.

He gave her no response, but she could feel his eyes on her right down to her toes. Suddenly coming felt like a very bad idea. She wasn't even sure if he and Emma were.. And Jack, Jack had just been buried. She couldn't..

Couldn't what? Allow herself one moment of happiness, one night without the nightmares?

"Just go, Alex.." he said quietly as she stood undecided.

"Damn you, Mick!" she whipped around furiously, all her anger and frustration suddenly unleashed at him. He met her glare with a calm exterior, but suddenly she realised his eyes were radiating sadness and guilt. Her anger vanished immediately and she reached out to touch his face almost instinctively.

He flinched as she touched him, then closed his eyes and didn't move again. His cheek felt hot in her hand. It seemed so natural to step closer, so close their noses could touch.

"Alex.." he breathed, knowing he should step away. Things always got complicated when they got this close. It was bad for the partnership.. But by God, it would be good. Just once more. Just one more kiss. Even as the thought occurred to him, he realised he was leaning in at his own accord.

He had intended just to kiss her gently, and then get the hell out. But as soon as his lips brushed against her, a wild surge of wanting came over him. He had to fight not to pull her closer, not to deepen the kiss and take possession of her mouth.

She ended his inner struggle by doing it herself. Her anger turned into passion, she simply didn't listen to all those warning bells she was so used to hearing when she was around Mick. It suddenly didn't seem so important when death was surrounding them and the world was so very cold.

It took a few seconds to kiss any rational thoughts out of his head. She could feel his body responding to her, his hands going around her to bring her even closer and something hard was pressed against her belly. The thought made her smile ever so slightly.

Mick could feel her lips curve into a smile and he had a fairly good idea what prompted the reaction. Her body was pushing against his, and it was all he could do not to just push her down on the carpet and rip her clothes off and..

The phone rang. Groaning, Mick broke the kiss of and reached for the receiver. Alex's body stayed glued to his though, and he could feel her wild heartbeats against his own heart.

"Reilly," he managed to croak, very aware that Alex had sneak a hand inside his t-shirt. All he heard was a dial tone. He was about to hang up and go back to the very pleasant task of kissing his very eager partner when a sound at the door jolted several reactions at once.

He'd already taken a dive for the floor, pushing Alex beneath him when the door was broken down and a dark silhouette appeared in the doorway. He was tall, that was all Mick's brain had time to register.

Alex tried to protest, but as she hit the floor, all the wind got knocked out of her. The next thing she knew, bullets slammed into the floor beside her. Instinctively her hands were already on her gun, and she brought it up and aimed in the general direction. Mick had rolled off her and to her left, taking cover behind the couch.

Another round of shots slammed into the couch, then fading footsteps could be heard. Looking up, Alex got a glimpse of a fleeing shadow. She fired another shot, but the angle was all wrong and she missed badly.

Outside, she could hear a motorcycle start up.


	2. Part Two

II

Emma rolled over and tried to regain her bearings. She was in her room, in bed. Who knows how she had got there. She felt George's hand gently play with her stomach and she smiled. He pulled her closer to his warm body and suddenly she was racked with guilt.

"George," she turned to face him. "I'm sorry." His hand brushed a stray hair from her face. "We shouldn't have… you know." She broke the intense eye contact. "It was…"

"Great," he smiled interrupting. She ducked her head, clearly embarrassed. 

"Don't worry."

"I don't, I'm not like, I never…" She got frustrated with herself. Dammit, she wasn't the kind of person just to sleep with a guy just because… lately, unfortunately she had been. Anything to get at Mick, to get with Mick.

"I…" 

He silenced her with a kiss and she relaxed into it.

"Don't worry Emma," he pulled her close and she shrugged him off. 

"Please don't..." but his forceful, warm... strong... sexy arm held her close to him and she relaxed into it, just for now...

II

Daylight was grim and grey as the city began to wake up. The trees shook their leaves and let the water fell to the ground as the wind rushed through them. Dark clouds on the horizon warned that more rain could be coming.

At the hospital, nurses went about with their jobs as normal, every now and then looking in on the police officer and the young woman waiting for her to woke up. Jeff had rushed out in the middle of the night on an emergency and not returned since.

When Helen finally began to stir, the young woman sat up expectantly.

Red was her first impression, blurred red, and for a moment, Helen wondered if she was dreaming. Then her vision sharpened and Tayler's smiling face came into focus. It was a rather strained smile, but nevertheless sincere.

A silence fell, as the machines kept ticking away patiently and there seemed to be no rush at all. Outside, the sun had broken through the thick clouds for a while, and drops of water began to fall away from the window.

Taking her hand, Tayler tried to withhold her tears, but failed miserably.

"It didn't stop," she whispered, "there's just more and more."

Nodding, Helen stoked her hair, having no strength for words. She knew exactly what Tayler felt though. The death never stopped.

And how much more could they carry?

A few minutes later the door gently cracked open and Jeff entered. He looked tired, Helen noticed, tired and angry. Dark circles under his eyes suggested he hadn't got that much sleep. Upon seeing her awake, he tried to smile, but it was more a grimace.

"What's going on, Jeff?" she asked before he'd even opened his mouth.

"It's nothing.."

"Jeff!" 

He sighed, then took a seat next to Tayler, giving her a quick greeting.

"Someone broke into Mick's house and fired several shots. Both him and Alex are unharmed," Jeff hurriedly added when he saw concern fill Helen's face. "We have a tire track of a motorcycle, and one neighbour noticed the licence plate."

"And?" Helen prompted, making a mental note of the fact that Alex had been with Mick. It could be nothing, but..

"It belongs to Ernie… Agi's brother," came Alex's voice drifting from the doorway as she stepped inside. She looked no better than Jeff, Helen noted, tired and not just physically.

"What does he want, to get even?" Helen could feel a cold hand grip her spine. Not another death. Anything but another death.

"What about George?" Jeff asked, "He was on the boat."

"I couldn't reach him at home," Alex answered, glancing down the hall. Where was Mick? He'd been right behind her before heading off the loo. What was taking him so long?

She was painfully aware that they needed to talk. The tense silence between them was about to drive her crazy.

"Find him," Jeff told her, bringing her speculation about Mick to an end. She left without another word, throwing a few glances at the men's toilet as she passed. If Mick was evading her, fine. Two could play at that.

But Mick wasn't in the toilet. Feeling an overwhelming urge for a breath of fresh air, he'd stepped outside. It was like he couldn't breathe anymore. Leaning against a tree, he heard footsteps approaching, but figuring it was Alex he didn't turn around.

He suddenly felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck, and than the world went black and the sound died away. "Like turning off a television," he though dimly before his thoughts died away too.

II

George wasn't at the office, and she kept getting his answering machine for the cell phone. She would give him a whipping when she found him, that was for sure, Alex thought with a sense of satisfaction. She just had to find him first.

Maybe he'd gotten so pissed last night he couldn't hear the phone? It was worth to drive by his place, to cool off if nothing else. Besides, being in the office was giving her the creeps.

She could almost hear Jack's voice echoed here, in conversations long past. Sometimes, late at night, she wondered if she could hear Frank and Rachel too, long before her time.

She practically ran out, feeling tears press on. Damnit! She had to keep going, it was the only thing that had kept her from breaking down the past weeks after Jack had been found dead and the funeral had been prepared. It was all she could do to hang on.

She didn't even notice the familiar car pulling into the parking lot as she sped away.

II

He was somewhere light and warm, and for a while Mick felt happy just being there. Then it occurred to him that it might be a bit too warm. His mind felt heavy, like it was filled with syrup. It was hard to think about too much. He had to take small breaks when it was straining too much, and so it took him several minutes to figure out a perfect solution to feeling too warm was to take a bath.

He tried to remember if he was supposed to find the place familiar, but it was too straining, so he gave up. He thought he had heard a car, but could he really be sure he knew what a car sounded like?

Rolling off the couch he was placed on, he looked down at his hands and found them to be tied. He couldn't really recall if they were supposed to be, and it kind of hurt, so he staggered into what had to be the kitchen to find something sharp.

Had it always been this hard to walk? His legs were shaking as he reached the counter and found a kitchen knife. He almost dropped it several times, but finally his hands were free.

But they still hurt, and he was still warm. And somewhere beyond the window he saw the water glittering.

II

Alex drove into George's driveway and found it to be empty. For a second she was about to just turn and drive back, then a bothersome thought came into her mind.

Would George really leave his door open like that, hanging just by one hinge?

Her eyes widened in terror as a thought occurred to her, and she dialled the number to the HQ without even thinking.

"Donna, get back-up to George's house NOW!" Without waiting for the reply, she exited, taking out her gun. There was something very, very wrong about the scene before her. The door had been broken down, and the implications of that brought a cold sweat to her face.

The house was empty, filled with light, but no sounds. She noticed the knife on the floor immediately, with just a little bit of blood on the edge. Still, it didn't exactly reassure her.

She wasn't really sure what made her look towards the open window and the Harbour, but as soon as she did, she saw the silhouette walking towards the water.

"George?" she called out, taking the quickest exit out to the beach; the window. The man (she was sure it was a man) had reached the water when she had crawled out, and as she ran closer, a slow reorganisation registered in her mind.

It was Mick.

"What the hell are you doing, Mick?" she cried out, her voice drowning in the sounds of the water roaring. He was waist deep in water now and the waves kept rolling over him, leaving no dry spots.

Without thinking, she ran into the water herself, throwing her gun to the sand and shuddering at the first contact with water. Still, she plunged on, towards the spot where Mick was now standing still. He wasn't looking in her direction at all, but rather at the horizon

She nearly lost her footing once or twice as waves washed over her and left her breathless. The wind was nearly strong enough to knock her over too, but she struggled on, finally reaching Mick.

"Mick!" she called out as she reached out to grab his hand, but at that moment a strong wave came right at her and she lost her footing. For a few seconds they were both under, then she emerged on all fours sputtering and cursing, feeling the beach under her feet and hands. And Mick's arm around her waist.

They both fell onto the beach, breathing hard.

"What's the bloody matter with you, Michael?" she managed to get out, pushing away wet strains of hair from her face.

"I dunno." He let go off her waist, rolling over on his back.

"You don't KNOW?" her voice rose in anger, and she had to fight the urge to slug him right then and there. The bloody idiot. Only then did she notice that his eyes seemed slightly disoriented, and that his wrists were swollen. Rolling over, she reached out to examine his wrists. He made no objections, looking at her without really looking.

He'd been tied up, she realised, tied up and probably injected with some drug. It wasn't a pleasant image, and as she helped him up, she vowed to stay glued to his side from now on. She had lost Jack. She couldn't lose Mick.

No matter how big a jerk he was.

II

George had expected to arrive home to a quiet house, change clothes, and head over to the hospital. It had been hard not to smile as he drove towards home, but as soon as he reached the driveway, his smile disappeared.

If the three police cars parked there hadn't been enough to tell him something was wrong, the expression on Jeff's face as he pulled in certainly was.

"Where the hell have you been?" Jeff fired at him as soon as George had exited the car. 

"What's going on?" George countered, not really wanting to answer "sleeping with one of your other subordinates".

"Ernie is out for revenge. He brought Mick here, drugged, and probably planned to kill you both together. Luckily, you weren't home, so he went to search for you. And then Alex.."

"And then Alex arrived, looking for me," George finished, suddenly feeling faint. Sex had literally saved his life. A sudden memory of his childhood priest telling him sex would do quite the opposite, that sex would ruin his life, came over him and he had to fight not to laugh. He was never going to be celibate. Never.

"How's Mick?"

"Confused. He'd been injected with one of the new drugs on the market. Luckily, it was only a small dose. He'll be fine."

"What about Ernie?"

"He's out there. But," Jeff added with a grim voice, "he won't be for long."

II 

Mick awoke to find a cool hand resting against his forehead. It was a pleasant sensation, and he revelled in it for a while, feeling like he had just awoken from a very, very long sleep. He remembered an urge to take a bath, but only very vaguely, like it hadn't happened to him at all.

"Mick?"

He opened his eyes and looked into Alex's face. She seemed relieved to see him, and as his eyes travelled over her body, he realised to his great surprise that she was wearing his clothes. They were a little big on her, but she was more beautiful than ever.

"I dropped by your place and got you a change of clothes, and I didn't wanna waste.." she paused, suddenly feeling a bit ridiculous about her decision to stay by him as much as she could. It wasn't like he would have been in danger in the hospital.. Well, he could have, she reasoned, but not very convincingly.

"I hope you don't mind," she finished, trying to read his expression. He shook his head, sill looking at her with an unreadable expression.

"Jack loved Rachel, and she died from him," he muttered suddenly and she began to wonder if the drug really had left his system.

"What?" she asked softly, her hand travelling through his soft hair on its own accord.

He didn't repeat the remark, instead he took her other hand in his.

"You should go, Alex."

She shook her head even before he'd finished the sentence.

"Not gonna happen, Michael Reilly."

They stared at each other for a while, yet it didn't seem like any time passed at all. A line from one poem she had read when she was too young to understand it, suddenly occurred to Alex.

_Each man kills the thing he loves  
Yet each man loves the thing he kills  
The brave man does it with a sword  
The coward with a kiss_

It made a hell of a lot more sense now, and she began to wonder if not Jack Christey had understood that poem much more than she ever would. 

"Alex.."

"No, Mick."

"But.."

The only way to shut him up, she figured, was to keep his lips occupied. So she pulled her upper body into the bed and kissed him before he had time to protest. This time he didn't hesitate or attempt to pull back, but simply leaned into the kiss and bring his arms around her waist. It was a rather painful position on her part, as the metal end of the bed pressed into her abdomen and thighs.

She broke of the kiss long enough to climb into the bed, trying to make a mental of note of the fact that they were in a hospital and couldn't really do anything.

But then Mick began kissing the side of her neck, and she decided to stick the mental note where the sun didn't shine. They could blame it on the shock, and in Mick's case, the drugs. Everyone would understand.

And yet not understand.

So she didn't really pay that much attention to the approaching footsteps.

"We have a description out on him," Jeff was telling Helen as they walked down the corridor. She was leaning on a frame and a snail could outrun her, but she was walking, that was the main thing.

"Where was George anyway?"

Jeff shook his head as they approach the room where Mick was resting. "He dodged the subject, but I'll find out. Even if it worked to our advantage this time, he can't vanish of the face of the Earth if he wants to be a detective."

Helen threw one look into the room as Jeff kept on about keeping in touch in a crisis situation, and suddenly took hold of Jeff's hand.

"Say Jeff, shouldn't you call to check in with George?" she said pleasantly (and loudly), steering him away from the room.

"What?" Jeff seemed momentarily taken aback.

"I'd feel so much better knowing if he is getting somewhere," she prattled on, trying not to shake her head. She'd known something like that would happen. Still, she didn't really feel she could blame them.

Leading Jeff away, she didn't notice Emma coming from the other side and looking through the doorway.

Emma stood very, very still for a long second, staring at the scene in front of her. Then she turned and walked quietly away.

Damned if she was going to face off Mick and Alex on the verge of tears.

II

Mick had fallen asleep, his hands still locked around her waist and his head nestled against her chest. She felt tired herself, but somehow she was afraid to fall asleep. It was much better to stay as she was, pretending for one small moment that everything was all right.

But it wasn't. She'd run from the consequences of Jack's death and right into the arms of another man. The thought made her cheeks hot, and she rested her head against Mick's. She hadn't even given him much choice, knowing how he felt, knowing about Emma..

A little voice inside her whispered. "And what about Jack? What was that?"

Problem was, she didn't know what it was. And now she never would.

"So you finally decided you wanted him," Emma's cold voice came from the doorway. Looking up, Alex had to fight an urge to bite back.

"Hey Em. I guess you and I should have a talk.."

II

When Jeff walked into HQ, Donna rushed immediately at him and he tried not to groan.

"Is it important? Half my police force is in the hospital," Jeff sighed, trying to ignore the fact that his leg itched violently.

"About that sir, there's a new detective here," Donna cut in, "Tommy Tavita."

"What?" Jeff was sure he'd heard wrong, that all the stress had finally got to him and he was hearing things.

"Tommy Tavita.. sir," came a deep voice from the door, and Tommy walked in, and suddenly it seemed to Jeff that he had never left. Not really. No one ever did. A part of them remained in the office, waiting for them to return once more.

As the two men shook hands, Jeff wondered if this meant yet another era for the Sydney Water Police. And troubling enough, he suddenly wondered if he was meant to be a part of it.

II

Night came, as it always did, no matter how hard the day struggled to keep on.

In a hospital room, Mick tossed around, his mind playing an endless reel of memories.

Rachel's face when he'd come knocking on Frank's door the day before the guy had left. Mick had always wondered just what he'd interrupted; a fight, a kiss, or something more? He'd always felt he owed Rachel something because of it.

Rachel's face from his dreams, always pointing at him, blaming him.

Jack's harsh words, accusing him of being the one to blame. He'd lashed out at Jack.. But only because it the words had been painfully true. Jack had been right.

Alex's face when she realised Jack hadn't made it, crumbling, her eyes tearing up, her bottom lip shaking.

Emma slamming the door behind her as she exited the car, and, in many ways, his life.

You can deny the guilt only for so long before it consumes you.

Looking at the woman asleep in the chair next to his bed, he wanted more than anything to reach out and touch her. She was just an arm reach away, yet a mile away. And so, he kept tossing and waiting for exhaustion to finally allow him sleep.

But even then the memories claimed his dreams

Twisting violently, he tried to reach out to Rachel, but blood poured from her so fast he was drowning. He called out her name, and suddenly he felt a hand on his face. The colour of her hair slowly began to change, turning golden like a halo. Alex.

"You're dreaming, Mick."

He knew he was, and so it didn't seem wrong to pull her onto the bed, trapping her below his body. She protested slightly, but he was too busy admiring the way her skin lit up in the room. Like pale moonlight, and he basked in it.

Her clothes were wide and easy to push away. He felt her soundless gasp as his hands wandered up her shirt, and the last of her protests died away.

She was so beautiful, her skin trembling under his touch, her lips warm as they brushed past his jaw line. Her hands had already tugged the hospital gown off him, and he could feel her smile as she pressed her body closer to his.

"Alex," he rasped, no longer caring if it was a dream or not, simply knowing he had to have her now, one way or another. She whispered his name as their bodies locked, and again and again until she was out of breath and very glad she had kicked the chair at the door, locking it somewhat.

She wondered if he was aware he wasn't dreaming, but as her body responded to his, she found she didn't care. A tide seemed to be rising inside her, and she had to bite her lip not to cry out as her body gave in.

When she finally felt like herself again, Mick was resting against her shoulder, his heavy breathing hot against her ear. After a while his breathing became steady, and she could tell he had drifted back to sleep.

She stayed awake until the darkness finally began to fade.


	3. Part Three

II

Dawn spread through the dark sky like wildfire, soon filling the sky with a colour show unlike any other in the world. And each glass surface in Sydney reflected the colours right back, as the sun showed its happy face and drying away the last remains of the rain.

"So you actually worked here before?" George asked Tommy as the Nemesis sped through another wave, throwing hundreds of water drops into the air. The drops caught the sun beautifully as they fell, showering over the two new detectives temporarily assigned to the Sydney Water Police.

"I was this boat, mate," Tommy replied, looking up at the crew now steering the boat. "Rookies," he muttered, but not unfriendly.

"You knew Jack then?"

"I knew Jack."

"What did you think of him?"

"Complete likeable asshole."

"I hear ya."

"So why did you come back?" George asked as they pulled up towards HQ

"You can quit, but you can never quite leave." Tommy gave him a quick glance. "You'll understand if you stick around."

As the boat came to a standstill, Tommy stepped off first and was greeted by a cry of joy.

"Tommy!" Emma couldn't stop herself from running towards him, and couldn't care less about the strange stares the rest of the divers were giving her.

She was just so glad to see an old face return unscathed, unharmed and somewhat content. She threw herself into his arms and he let himself hold her tight and they span around a few times.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see George looking on. He smiled at her and nodded slightly. She smiled back at him and she was just glad that he would be able to understand. It wasn't going to be awkward.

Emma buried her face in Tommy's shoulder and they just relaxed into each other for a few moments before strolling up to the station reminiscing about old times – happy times…

And then George joined them, laughing at the stories realising that one day he too would be a part of them

II

"Hey Gav, Helen," Mick called out, as he walked into the room. Eva gave him a smile, then returned her attention to the small bundle. Helen too, was completely engrossed in the little baby.

"Hey Mick. Heard you were cooped up here too," Gavin replied, keeping with the light tone.

"Yeah. They just let me go. I heard Tommy and Tayler were in here yesterday."

"Oh yeah, it was almost like.." the sentence hung unfinished in the air. It would never again be like "old times".

"You remember Rachel?" Mick asked softly, "I've been thinking a lot about her lately."

"Me too. She and Frank, man, they were the Water Police for so long.."

"I never knew Frank that well."

"That's because you couldn't handle a beer, Reilly," Frank's dry voice remarked as the man himself stepped into the room from the doorway where he'd been listening. For a moment anyone in the room were too surprised to say anything.

"Francis James Holloway!" Helen exclaimed, so much in the exact same tone as Rachel would have used that Frank for a moment seemed off balance. Even Helen jumped a little at the sound of her own voice.

"Hey Helen," he finally said, in such a soft voice she wondered if she wasn't just hallucinating after all.

"Where the HELL have you been?" she replied, trying to regain some composure. She was faring better than the boys, she noted smugly, both Mick and Gavin looked as if they had seen a ghost.

"Sailing the great seas.." he smiled widely, but even in his smile Helen saw a hint of resigned sadness, the kind that stays with you forever. She wondered just what Rachel's death had done to him, and what it had done to her. It seemed like yesterday now, that she had seen the look on Rachel's face after Frank had sailed away.

"You never rang me back."

"I.." his voice faltered a bit. "I couldn't believe Rachel was gone.."

"Me neither.." staggering onto her feet, Helen felt tears emerging again, but not the mindless, senseless tears she'd cried at the funeral. These were real, liberating tears. Frank embraced her, and she could feel his own quiet crying.

"I'm sorry about Jack too, but if you repeat that to anyone, I'll never forgive you," he whispered, and she had to smile despite the tears.

Gavin and Mick finally had enough sense to close their mouths and pick up their eyes from the floor. Eva just smiled in the corner, quietly rocking her child.

II

Sunshine greeted Mick as he pushed the hospital doors open. He knew Alex wasn't gonna like that he wandered off on his own, but he had to get some air. He had to get out, and besides, Alex had ran off without telling him where she was going. The erotic dream he'd had about her, hadn't exactly improved his resolve to stay away.

"Mick!" He turned to see Frank walking out, looking quite thoughtful.

"It's been a while," Mick forced himself to say as Frank walked up.

"Yeah, half the bloody Station has changed," Frank muttered, then quickly changing the topic. "I understand you have a guy after you."

"Yeah." As Mick said it, he felt something slowly resurface from the back of his mind. There had been something wrong about this from the start. Something not quite right. He could feel it was there, hovering just out of reach.

Something he had heard as he had been in a drug-instated haze. Something important. Something about a woman. It was painful to try and remember, but he kept on, pushing away the hazed layers.

"Sophie!" he cried out, his mind suddenly racing. "He was talking to Sophie! Shit! No wonder we haven't found him."

Frank looked like a question mark, but knew enough about the way cops minds works to ask any questions.

"You have a car here?" Mick asked urgently.

"Yeah.. this way."

"I'll drive," Mick said absentmindedly, thinking it as best since he knew the way. He missed the range of emotions flickering over Frank's face; sadness, resignation, determination. He simply tossed the keys over to the younger man, wondering how many times he'd done that with Goldie.

He shook the memory away, it would be plenty of time for that when darkness fell and the demons came out from the dark corners of his mind.

Getting in the car, Frank glanced over at Mick, remembering the cheerful, bright young man he and Rachel had been burdened with. They'd had some fun. He chuckled softly at the thought of Mick's hangover face back then – it suddenly felt so very long ago.

"I bet whatever money I have in the bank they're at Jack's."

"Done," Frank replied as they sped away, leaving a trail of dry dust. Mick kept his focus on the road, a dreaded feeling he would be too late. He could do nothing right, it seemed. Bloody hell. If Sophie was hurt, if..

Squeezing in between two cars he sped on before finally pulling up at Jack's place. Sophie had temporarily moved in there to sort through all the stuff Jack had left her. The motorcycle in the driveway caused him to nearly panic.

He didn't even have a bloody gun. Bloody smart thinking. But beside him, Frank had quietly taken his old gun out of the holster.

"You're back in the Force?"

"For a little while," Frank simply answered, as they walked up to the open door.

"In here," they suddenly heard Sophie's voice. She didn't sound scared or anxious, but something was amiss, Mick could feel it. And as he walked into the kitchen and saw the body, he knew who it was. Frank was on the phone in a matter of seconds.

"He came over this morning," Sophie said in a slow, dull voice. "I shot him with his own gun. It's there. He said he wanted revenge. But he didn't really. He just wanted to escape the pain."

Mick stared at her, slowly leaning against the kitchen counter. He felt tired, so very tired.

"Did you call him or he call you?"

She looked up at him with an unreadable expression. In it he saw the same look he had seen when Jack had been so bent on finding Rachel's killer. It frightened him.

"What do you think?" she simply answered.

II

The cemetery was quiet, even the nearby cars seemed to make less noise as they drove by. Or maybe it was just an illusion, to lure you into thinking the dead really are at peace.

"No jury will punish her, mate, even if she called him and initiated the meeting," Frank said quietly as they walked among the erect gravestones.

"There are other punishments than the law," Mick muttered, looking down at his hands. As they walked closer to the grave they were headed for, he had to fight a stronger and stronger urge to turn around and walk back.

And as they approached Rachel's grave, he suddenly noticed someone else sitting by it. It was Alex, the sun lighting up her hair like it was gold.

"Alex," he indicated to Frank. "What's she doing here?"

"Let me talk to her, mate," Frank suggested, "It's time I met the infamous Alex St. Clare. I hear she is quite a catch."

Mick met his glare with as such cool as he could. The older man smiled knowingly, then began to walk forward. After a few steps he stopped and turned.

"You won the bet. I don't have that much money, but.. I have the Footloose. I won't be sailing again. Take her."

Mick tried to voice a protest, but Frank plunged right ahead, paying no heed.

"You can take your partner sailing. She'll like that." Staring into the horizon he added almost soundlessly. "I know she would have."

Then he resumed his walking.

Alex heard the approaching footsteps, and glanced up at the bluest eyes she had ever seen.

"She was a great copper," the blue eyes said, looking at Alex with an unreadable expression, but she had a feeling she was being graded in some way.

"So I hear," she replied, getting up. They stared at the grave for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.

"You're Frank Holloway," she suddenly said, knowing it to be true even before she saw his reaction. He shuffled his feet, looking everywhere but at her.

"I've been around a while," he said after a moments silence, "I tried coming by the office a thousand times, but then I realised I wouldn't be seeing Rachel, I would be.."

"Seeing me," she finished.

"Yeah."

"I never knew her, but I've been living in her shadow since I came," she said bitterly. Frank shook his head.

"Only if you choose to." He gave her a smile that convinced her Rachel Goldstein had been a woman with not too bad taste in men after all.

"I'd been meaning to leave this letter here forever," he continued, holding out a crumbled piece of paper.

"You loved her," she said quietly.

"You loved him. Jack, I mean."

"I don't know." She shrugged helplessly. "I felt to torn between him and Mick, and now I might loose Mick too and I can't, I can't.." To her desperation tears began to form in her eyes, hot, angry tears that seemed to burn her skin. She pushed them back desperately, she couldn't crumble here, not in front of bloody legend Frank Holloway.

A piece of paper was suddenly pushed into her hands, and without even thinking, she read the first sentence. And even though she knew it was not really meant for her, she kept on reading until there were no more words.

_Hey Rach,_

This must be the 4th letter I have started. Funny how I didn't get the determination to finish it until it can never be sent.. but I'm writing it anyway, you know, just for the heck of it. I think I just need to say it, to have said it.. 

I'm not making much sense, am I? Well, that's okay, you always seemed to understand anyway. Words were never my strong side.. I have rehearsed a thousand speeches to win you over, but somehow they always ended up unspoken.

At least now I don't have to worry about you laughing it off.

That was a sick joke.. I always seemed to pull those around you.. probably cos I had to say something fast before how I really felt slipped out of me.

Cos I loved you. There, I've written it, and it will always be on the paper, and nothing can change that. I don't know if you felt the same way.. guess I'll never know now. It doesn't really matter, I just wanted you to know because the words have been burning on my tongue for so long.. I just had to.

Helen called me and told. But I already knew in a way.. when I sailed off, and turned to wave at ya, I had this strange feeling it was the last time I'd see you. And it was. When I heard Helen's voice, I knew something had happened.

I miss you. Life seems.. less now that you're not here. I may have sailed away, but it was knowing you'd be still there, and when I got back.. maybe.. Well, I heard about Jack, so I guess not. I knew you'd meet someone.. But really, Jack? Couldn't you have picked someone better? I mean, really.. Well, I suppose it's your choice.

I think I've met someone too.. she's from Venezuela.. remember how you joked about that? She's nice, and I like her.. but she's not you Rach. That was always the fault in the women I dated.. they were great, but they weren't you.

A little too late for that admission now, but I wanted you to know. I hope you enjoy yourself up there.. And know that I miss you. I have been a good boy lately too.. So, I just wanted you to know I'll be joining you, but in the meantime, the days seem to stretch on forever.

Looking up, she started to ask him why he'd given her that, but the question died on her lips when she saw that Frank was no longer there, almost as if he'd never been there at all.

She wondered if she'd dreamed it all. But then she realised she was still holding Frank's letter. For a second she wondered what to do with it. Then she put it down gently by the gravestone, right next to the red rose. It didn't belong to her.

"Alex?"

Turning, she saw Mick standing a few feet away, his face drawn and tired. Still, he looked beautiful, a mild wind gently stroking his hair.

And it seemed only natural to fall into his embrace.

II

Epilogue

Thunderous applause greeted Helen as she walked into the Water Police HQ flanked by Jeff, who joined in vigorously. She smiled despite herself, feeling like a million bucks. It was always good to be appreciated. Having been gone for the last few weeks, they'd probably forgotten to fear her. No worries, she'd fix that fairly quickly. As the applause died down, Jeff gently guided her through the little crowd.

"I've given Alex and Mick a leave for a couple of weeks. It will do them good. They might even cool off," Jeff added, then saw Helen's look.

"What, you didn't think I noticed? I had a leg injury, not a head injury."

"Tommy and George should do nicely in the meantime," she replied, avoiding to answer the question. "If you still want some time off Jeff, Frank might be able.."

"Frank might be able to do what?"

"He could fill in here. He got promoted, and I'll only be working half-time.."

"You're telling me Holloway was promoted?" Jeff stared at her in disbelief.

"He apparently helped solve a major drug case in New Zealand.."

"Holloway.." Jeff shook his head. "God help us all."

Helen chuckled softly as they walked up the stairs.

Life went on. It as all it knew how to do.

II

It was finally clean. Frank looked around with a sense of satisfied exhaustion. He'd cleaned every corner, every floor, every surface of his house, and it was shining with cleanness. Rachel would have been proud.

She wouldn't have showed it, but she would have been. God, he missed her. It had been years, and he still missed her. He'd had a few relationships since they had waved their goodbyes, but whenever it got serious, he had left.

Some people never let you go. And after he'd accepted that, he'd felt strangely calm. The thought of seeing Alex in Rachel's chair had no longer seemed suffocating. So here he was, surrounded by new and old faces, back in the Force and even bloody promoted.

It felt good and heartbreakingly sad at the same time. There was the couch they'd been sitting on so many times, the kitchen where he'd nearly kissed her, the door she had knocked on some many times… Hundreds of memories, all there. Opening the window, he looked out at the sea. Somewhere out there Mick and Alex would be sailing, like he and Rach should have.

"Hey Rach," he said aloud, "I'm home."

And the wind brushed past him, kissing him lightly.

II

It was a brilliant day at sea, the sun shining so strongly the water seemed to be golden. It was hard to look to for long, but every now and then Alex would crack open an eye to throw a quick glance around.

Her body was warm and comfortable, a mild wind caressing the places Mick wasn't slowly stroking. The boat was moving slowly with the waves, lulling her into an almost trance-like calm state.

They were lying on the deck of the Footloose, anchored off not too far away from the coast. She could see the reflection of the sun on some windows ashore, and the fast moving cars on the highway. She counted a few as Mick traced a slow pattern on her back. He repeated the pattern again, and she realised he was writing letters.

She said aloud each letter as he continued until he'd finished the entire sentence. Putting the words together, she shook her head in disbelief.

"You're a pig, Michael," she laughed, "No way are we doing that!"

He traced another word on her back, this time he let his lips follow. She was still shaking her head, but less vigorously now. He knew he'd win her over. Finally, as he reached the back of her neck, the headshake was gone. 

Instead she pulled his body on top of hers, admiring his upper body with her eyes and her hands. His skin was almost so hot it was painful to touch. Leaning on his elbows, he was busy tracing the outlines of her breasts. It occurred to her they could stay like this forever, just rocking in the waves, paying no attention to the world outside.

Then a pained expression came over Mick, and she realised immediately what he was thinking off. He attempted to pull back, but she clung onto him until he finally gave up and cried softly against her shoulder. It was the first time he had since Jack had died.

As she held onto him, she reached for the paper she had been writing on, looking at the words scrambled down with an unsteady hand.

_Dear Jack.._

I think I could have loved you. I just have to say it, one way or another, so I can deal with it and move on. We probably never would have made it. Some loves are meant to be followed, some live best in silence and without action. I think that was the kind of love we would have had. If we ever managed to agree on something long enough.

Still I will never know, and I will have to live with that.

I miss you.

Alex

And slowly, very slowly, she lifted the letter and let it drift away with the wind.

It wasn't the end of the story. The story would go on as life went on. But she felt like something had been finished, something had ended. Just what, she wasn't sure. There was still a long way to go. They both had guilt to wrestle with, and work would be complicated and it might not even work out. Hell, the odds weren't exactly in their favour.

But if they didn't try, they'd never know. That's what Frank had been telling her. Rachel hadn't chosen Jack over Frank, and she wasn't choosing Mick over Jack. You take what life gives you.

It was as good as a conclusion she would get, she figured.

FIN


End file.
